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Friday, September 30, 2016

I’ve sketched this particular stand of maples at Green Lake
many times in the fall. Who could resist the wild variety of colors? Some trees
are nearly all red and orange, while others are still mostly green. The side
that faces the water (as seen in a sketch from two years ago) as well as the sun for most of the day usually
has more color in general, but there’s still such a range of hues.

I just went through the sketches I’ve done of these same
trees in previous years to compare the color changes, and the one I did on Oct. 14, 2013, is probably the closest to this one – yet that
was three weeks later in the year than now. A month earlier that year, the tops were barely kissed with color.

This, by the way, is the first sketch I’ve attempted of
these maples using water-soluble colored pencils instead of watercolor. It
probably took me about 50 percent longer than it usually takes, but I like it
at least 50 percent better – both the process and the result. I love the
texture I can get with pencils that I don’t know how to get with watercolors,
and I enjoy building both the hues and the values slowly and incrementally rather
than planning the glazes and washes.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Once I get out of denial and accept the end of summer, I fully embrace fall; it has always
been my favorite season. (It’s only been since I began sketching that I’ve had
ambivalence about it.) Brilliant foliage; cloudy mornings that burn off to sunny
afternoons warm enough to take the top down; the return of salted caramel mochas: What’s not to love?

Last year on Labor Day weekend I sketched some slender maples in Metropolitan Market’s parking
lot when they were still mostly green, so I wondered what they looked like now.
Shopping there on Monday, I saw that they were showing a full palette of hues –
everything from dark green to yellow to orange to crimson and magenta. I went
back the next day and sketched them with the top down. Autumn is bittersweet –
but on that day, it was mostly sweet.

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

On Monday I was heading for the Bryant neighborhood looking
for a maple tree I’d sketched in previous years, wondering if it had turned. I
found the tree (not as much color as I’d hoped), but even better, I spotted another
urban couch.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

OK, so the update is not radical in terms of time – it’s not
as if I suddenly changed out everything in one day. I’ve been making gradual, incremental
changes all along. But two major changes are significant (though perhaps only
temporary), and I’ve made them both since I returned from my trip to the UK: For the first time in a few years, I’m
using only two fountain pens. And for the first time ever, I’m using no
watercolors at all!

I’ve been gradually using colored pencils more and more often,
especially during travel, yet I felt like I always “needed” watercolors, just in
case. I finally decided to cut the cord and take the watercolors out. (I even removed
the few Zig Clean Color Real Brush markers I usually carry.) So pencils are now my only source of color (except
for one waterbrush filled with sky-blue ink). As usual, it’s an experiment, and
I might eventually put watercolors back in. We’ll see if I miss them.

As for the fountain pens. . . you know how much I love them. But I found that when I carried five
or six or eight in my bag, I used them according to the 80/20 rule: My two Sailor fude pens got used 80 (or maybe 90)
percent of the time, while all the rest got used only occasionally, meaning
they were not earning their keep as daily carries.

Monday, September 26, 2016

On my way out of the library, I stopped to look at the young
cherry tree. This is the tree that replaced a huge, old cherry that had to be removed for some sewer work last
year. I’ve been sketching the little tree through the seasons – with tight buds last February and in full blossom a month later. On Saturday
afternoon, it was the first time I’d sketched it without braces supporting its
spindly trunk. It was good to see it standing confidently on its own.

Still mostly green, its leaves are just beginning to show
traces of orange at the edges.

Sunday, September 25, 2016

I keep a running list in OneNote (my digital notebook) of things or places I’d like to
sketch someday. The ideas on the list can be fairly general – “Thornton Creek
Park” – or very specific – “the large angel monument at Evergreen Washelli
cemetery; sketch in the afternoon when the light is hitting the front.” If I’m
running errands or attending a meeting in a certain neighborhood, I might check
the list to see if there’s something nearby that I could stop and sketch. And when
I know I have a chunk of time available, I’ll simply decide to visit a
particular location and set out for it. I call this approach “destination
sketching” – knowing before I arrive that I have a certain subject or location
in mind.

In the summer months when I (hopefully) have many days of
good weather, I usually do some form of destination sketching whenever I can.
This past summer, however, I found myself more often taking a very different approach
to sketching – taking casual sketch strolls in my own neighborhood. I simply
grab my bag, walk out the door and keep walking until I find something to
sketch. I don’t have a particularly interesting neighborhood, but something almost
always catches my attention within 10 or 15 minutes of walking. I never know
what I might find, but I enjoy the hunt without having a particular goal or
destination. Hunt is not even the
right term; I don’t aggressively search. I just remain engaged and open to what
might be sketchable and see what appears. And if I come home with nothing
sketched, that’s OK, too.

7/3/16 brush pen, white gel pen, colored pencil

At the risk of over-analyzing this, I’d probably say at
least two things led to this different approach. One is that I had a busy
summer of travel, so while I was home, I was tired of planning, organizing and
having an itinerary. It felt good to sketch without a plan.

The other is the little Field Notes notebook that’s always in my bag along with my usual sketchbook.
When I go out for a destination sketch, the destination or subject usually
demands (at least in my own mind) a relatively large composition, a little
color and enough of my time and attention that I feel compelled to use my full
sketchbook. But with a Field Notes in my bag, I lower both my standards and my
expectations. I don’t worry about color, context or story. I feel no pressure
to share (although I usually do just because it’s fun).

8/21/16 brush pen, ink, colored pencils

If I take a walk and find nothing but a tire leaning up
against a utility pole, it becomes an interesting tonal study on red paper. A
toilet (!) abandoned on a sidewalk fits nicely on the Field Notes’ small page format.
A couple of crows on a wire or a plastic flamingo? Ideal subjects for small
vignettes. These casual sketches are not even a record of my day – indeed, they
are nothing more than a record of a moment or two, as ephemeral as the paper
they’re sketched on.

Maybe next summer I’ll go back to destination sketching; I certainly still have a long list of ideas at the ready. But sketch strolls have taught me that it’s just as much fun to skip the list and simply follow my notebook.

Friday, September 23, 2016

Named for the Norwegian city, Bergen Place is a small but colorful park in the center of Ballard.
On Sundays, the park is lively with farmers market shoppers, but on this gusty,
drizzly Friday morning, it was quiet except for the regular, startling outcries
of a man in flip-flops making erratic hand gestures. (I think the park is his
home; I’ve seen him on farmers market days, rummaging through trash cans,
shouting at persons unseen by the rest of us.) Despite the questionable
weather, four hardy sketchers showed up.

Attracted to the juxtaposition of real trees and art trees,
I stood across the street to sketch the park until the drizzle turned to
full-on rain. Then I retreated to Starbucks, where a front window gave me a
slightly different view of the park, this time with some of the Scandinavian
flags visible.

9/23/16 brush pen, colored pencils, ink

We decided to meet at the Ballard public library for our
sketchbook throwdown. While I waited a few minutes for the others to show up, I
stood near the library’s entrance to catch the sidewalk scene.

I hate to say it, but it feels like fall, and outdoor
sketching season is probably over.

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Back in May I made my first sketch at the Aegis Living retirement facilityconstruction site behind
Maple Leaf Park. After demolition, it was quiet for a while, but now activity
is back at full speed. I could hear lots of noise and see clouds of dust, but I
couldn’t see the heavy equipment behind the huge mounds of dirt. Fortunately
for me, this excavator’s operator was taking a break.

According to a sign, the facility is not scheduled to open until
2018, so I’ve got plenty of action to sketch ahead! I’d better sharpen a few
more Gold Cadmium Yellow pencils. ☺

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Twenty-eleven was a year of big changes. In May I had eye
surgery that enabled me to see without correction for the first time since
third grade. In November I cut my waist-length hair (I’d worn it long for
decades) to the length it is now and simultaneously quit coloring – at last, liberation
from the shackles of my tresses! But the biggest change of all was that my only
sister died at the age of 65 – only one month after she had retired.

Nearly 13 years older than I, Linda was practically a second
mom to me when I was growing up. She had always been supportive of my creative
endeavors. Even when my childhood drawings mocked her, she laughed and seemed
to appreciate my humor. In my 40s when I ventured into jewelry making, she always
proudly wore my creations. Strangers who happened to compliment a necklace or
bracelet inevitably got the full story about how I had made those pieces for
her. She was my biggest fan. It makes me sad that she never saw my sketches.

12/9/11

I don’t know if her death in April directly affected my
commitment to sketching and learning to draw later that same year. I do know,
however, that after she died, I gave a lot of thought to not putting things off. “After retirement,” “after the home repairs
are done,” “after the kids are grown and I have more time” – a lot of people
put off things that are important to them until after. If it’s really important, then a good time to start is now.

(Once a year on my sketching anniversary, I write a retrospective
post. You can read the previous years’ posts here: 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012.)

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Driving a convertible was always in my destiny. Even as
young as a kindergartener, I saw my much-older brothers drive various European
convertible roadsters, and I knew someday I’d have one of my own.

Fast-forward to 1996, when I was driving a boring but
serviceable Mazda GLC sedan. Economical and easy to park, it got me to where I
needed to go with no fuss (but also no fun). One morning I walked out to the
front of our house where I always parked it, and it was gone. One of several
‘90s-era Japanese models that were known to be easy to steal, it had
disappeared into the night.

Around that same time I had just changed jobs and industries
– from local government to software. A little premature for a mid-life crisis
(I was only in my late-30s), I had nonetheless decided that my stolen sedan was
a wake-up call. It was time to get the car of my destiny!

Unlike the leaky, unreliable roadsters of my brothers’ era, Mazda’s
relatively new convertible had a reputation for being both fun and reliable. In bright tomato red, a
Miata was the car of my dreams. I drove one home on Sept. 20, 1996.

Twenty years later, I am still driving her. The paint’s a
bit faded and dull, and she has more than a few dings and scratches. All year
she’s economical, easy to park and gets me to where I need to go. But in the
summer when her top comes down, the wind in my hair and the sun overhead, even
routine errands feel like small adventures.

Since I’d stayed small in my compositions a few months ago when the Friday
sketchers met on Queen Anne Hill, I decided to go tall this time. Bethany Presbyterianis one of few
Gothic-style churches I know of in Seattle. Much of the church front is
obstructed by several trees, but it didn’t matter, because the tall, pointy
spire is the only part I like to sketch anyway.

Queen Anne Hill is
known for its three huge power towers, and I’ve always wanted to sketch one. Of
course, I forgot to bring my landscape sketchbook, so I had to settle for
turning my usual sketchbook the long way. I managed to capture only about a
third of the tower’s height.

9/18/16 ballpoint pen, colored pencils, ink

In the remaining 15 minutes before the sketchbook sharing (at
our two-and-a-half-hour sketch outings, somehow I always seem to do two
sketches and then end up with 15 minutes left), I grabbed my brush pen and
looked down shady, tree-lined Queen Anne Avenue on a beautiful September
morning.

Sunday, September 18, 2016

Otsukimi (“moon
viewing”)is the Japanese tradition
of celebrating the autumn full moon with poetry, music and general festivities.
On a warm, clear night, it must be nothing short of magical to gaze peacefully
at the rising moon while listening to live cello music and haiku readings.

That warm, clear night, however, did not materialize for us yesterday
at Seattle Japanese Garden, which
annually hosts Otsukimi for the September Harvest Moon. We were lucky to have a
brief reprieve from the rain and high winds that had battered us most of the day
– just long enough to enjoy some of that cello music. By the time I started
putting a little color on my sketch, it started spitting, and when I switched to
my small Field Notes notebook, the spitting had turned to rain. Otsukimi
revelers didn’t miss a beat; they just opened their umbrellas and pulled up
their hoods.

9/17/16 brush pen, white gel pen

You might wonder why we chose to go to Otsukimi on such a
blustery night. The Japanese Garden starts selling tickets to the highly
popular event a month ahead of the date, and it sells out almost immediately. We’ve
been wanting to attend for years, but we were always either out of town or
weren’t able to get tickets in time. Knowing we’d be in town this year, we
pounced on them as soon as tickets were available. Of course, you can’t predict
weather a month out, and late September is always iffy.

Ah, well. The clouds never parted long enough to reveal that
elusive Harvest Moon, but we all knew it was shining up there somewhere.

Saturday, September 17, 2016

Tucked away in the woods of Kingston (which is a short ferry
ride from Edmonds just north of Seattle), Heronswood Garden has risen from its dark past.
Started in 1987 as a vast garden of international plants, Heronswood was
eventually sold to the Burpee seed company in 2000. Within six months, Burpee
had declared bankruptcy, and by 2006, the garden was in ruins. Several years
later, the Port Gamble S’Klallam Tribe purchased the garden’s remains, and
since then the garden has come back to life with a flourish.

Open for self-guided tours every Friday, Heronswood seemed
like a good way to end our summer (I say that retrospectively as rain pours
down on our windows this morning). Although not huge, the garden makes you feel
like you’re wandering through quiet woods with a surprising and eclectic mix of
plantings. Palms and banana trees grow next to ferns and dahlias. Some of the
flowers were long gone or on their way out, but brilliant orange dahlias were
at their peak, and the bees were certainly happy. Some of the Japanese maples
were just beginning to turn.

9/16/16 colored pencils (dahlia and a happy bee)

Greg came home with a small plant (he’s the only one with a
green thumb at our house; I can’t touch it or it will die) as a reminder of
this lovely garden that we plan to return to in the spring.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

The Museum of History and Industry has a fun exhibit right
now called “Toys of the ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s.”In addition to all my childhood favorites – Etch-a-Sketch, Thing Maker, Spirograph
– the show has every other popular toy of those eras. Barbie, Slinky, GI Joe,
Tonka trucks, Silly Putty, Hot Wheels – what a nostalgia tour!

The best part of the exhibit was probably the TV commercials,
which were being looped on several old sets. Thankfully, Greg and I had the
exhibit nearly to ourselves, because I started roaring with laughter when the Mystery Date Dud appeared! (Oops, sorry for the ear worm.) Ah, we were
so easily amused back then (and apparently now, too).

I had a hard time deciding what to sketch, so I made a
montage of three favorite icons – Troll, Cootie and Mr. Potato Head.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

On my morning sketchabouts in the neighborhood this week,
I’ve had my eye on the house a few blocks up the street where a roofing truck
is parked. The past couple days workers were getting ready, unloading stuff and
moving it around, but I didn’t see much roof action. Today my patience paid
off, and two roofers were up there laying shingles.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Although I’ve been using them for a long time, water-soluble
colored pencils have intriguing properties that I have only begun to explore. My
favorite brand for a couple of years has been Caran d’Ache Museum Aquarellesfor its softness of application and
ability to dissolve completely. They are pricey, though, so after getting a small starter set, I buy the other colors open stock. (That’s actually an economical way to buy any colored pencil,
because pre-made sets always seem to have several colors I seldom use. Ahem.
That knowledge doesn’t always prevent me from buying sets, however. I’m a
sucker for beautiful boxed sets – what can I say?)

Compared to other colored pencil lines, Museum Aquarelles
come in a fairly narrow range of hues because the pigments have to be lightfast
to be in the collection. So I fill in colors I can’t get in the Museum line
with my other favorites – Faber-Castell’s
Albrecht Dürerand Caran d’Ache’s Supracolor. All three are excellent pencils (which means I can probably
stop “researching” other brands, right? Surely, you jest). In addition, of all
the pencils I own, these three are the only ones I know of that are available
open stock.

Besides those, I’ve tried a number of other brands, some of
which I like and others that I can do without. In some cases I received samples
from vendors in various symposium or other event goodie bags, and in other
cases I bought small sets. My tests include swatching them on various paper
types and making small still lifes. These tests tend to be haphazard and
spontaneous, however, and I end up forgetting which sketchbook contains which
test results.

On a recent rainy afternoon, I decided to make myself a
single test sheet of all the water-soluble colored pencil brands I have at
least samples of. (Some took a bit of time to chase down because, following Ana Reinert’s lead, I started putting
colored pencils all over the house instead of storing them only in my studio.
Some people like to put vases of flowers in every room; I’m happier with mugs
of colored pencils!) Shown here are the results done on a page of Stillman
& Birn Beta paper.

The “dry” column
is a very subjective test of how the pencil feels when I lay down a swatch with
my natural (fairly heavy) pressure. My preference is always for a soft, creamy
application rather than hard, so this is the test that many pencils fail (for
me). If it feels hard and scratchy to me, I will probably not use it much. From
this test, I also learn how much crumbly dust the pencil leaves behind. (I had
to blow all that off before scanning, however, so you can’t see the results.) In
addition, the dry test is to see how well a swatch covers the Beta’s medium-coarse
texture with one somewhat aggressive application (how much paper shows through
in the recessed areas).

As expected in this highly subjective test, the “dry” test
revealed all my faves (Caran d’Ache Museum, Caran d’Ache Supracolor,
Faber-Castell Albrecht Dürer) to be among the softest in application and least
dust-producing. However, Crafter’s Companion Spectrum Noir AquaBlend
(a relatively difficult brand to source, it turns out, as I found it only on
Amazon and not at any of the stores I shop at) turned out to be surprisingly
soft and creamy – even more so than Supracolor and Dürer. It produces a lot of
crumbs, though.

The “wet-on-dry”
column shows one wipe-through with a waterbrush without scrubbing the swatch.
In other words, it’s a test of how quickly and completely the pigment dissolves
with the addition of water. This technique is probably the most-commonly used
with water-soluble pencils – color an area with an application of dry pencil,
then activate that spot of dry pigment with water applied with a brush. The
addition of water makes the hue more intense but can also sometimes change the
hue slightly from its dry state. It’s a very easy way to make a small, easily
controlled spot of color.

The same four best performers in the “dry” test also did
well in the “wet-on-dry” test by being the fastest and most complete
dissolvers. The worst was Palomino Aquas
(which was also crumbly, dry and hard in application in the “dry” test).

The “licked”
column shows the result of “licking” (I tried to think of a better term but
came up blank; I have to thank Larry Marshall for that highly technical term!) a waterbrush against the pencil
tip to pick up pigment, then painting it onto the paper in a manner similar to
using conventional watercolors. The color tends to be a bit more watery than using
straight watercolor paints, however. The “licking” test was the most
inconclusive in that they all put down about the same amount of pigment by this
method. Or perhaps conclusive in that this attribute is the great equalizer.

Finally, the “dry-on-wet”
column was made by spraying a generous amount of water on the paper, then
scribbling directly into the wetness with the pencil. This was my favorite test
because it was the most revealing. As expected, my top three – Museum,
Supracolor and Dürer – dissolved rapidly and richly when smeared through wet
paper. This is how I want water-soluble pencils to behave when I use them this
way. AquaBlend also behaved predictably well in this test, given its similar
softness. Cretacolor Marino was the
biggest surprise. In dry application, it felt relatively soft, and dissolved
acceptably in the “wet-on-dry” test. But when scribbled on wet paper, it hardly
dissolved at all, making a faint, dry line.

The pencils that applied relatively dryly, such as Palomino
and Art GripAquarelles, also skidded through water in a dry, unsavory manner. The exception was Derwent Inktense, which goes on dry compared to my favorites, but when pushed through water, it really put out intense, inky color. (Interestingly, it didn't dissolve fully in the wet-on-dry test.) Caran
d’Ache Fancolor, which applies relatively soft (I liked it when I wrote my full review a couple months agobut
didn’t test them wet on dry), was disappointing in this test. I love the
way water-soluble pencils bloom with rich, intense pigment on wet paper because
it’s an effect not easily achieved with any other medium, so pencils that fail that
test are deal-breakers for me.

Yesterday morning I took my usual fistful of Museum
Aquarelles to Maple Leaf Park with the express intention of using as many
water-soluble colored pencil techniques as possible in one sketch – and no
other medium. At the top of the post you can see the sketch when I finished it
at the park. Normally I would use watercolor or ink in a waterbrush to paint sky
because a wet medium seems to be required – I’ve never liked the look of a sky
colored with a dry medium. But to keep my test sketch pure, I used the
wet-on-dry technique: I made several strokes of blue pencil on the paper and
then dissolved that with the waterbrush.

After I scanned the image above, I thought the sky (which
was a brilliant, clear blue yesterday) looked too pale and wimpy. To intensify
the color, I used a variation of wet on dry (in the diagram below, I’m calling
it “pre-dissolved wet on dry”): I applied a rich swatch of dry pencil to scrap
paper, wet the swatch generously, and then dipped into the resulting puddle of pigment
with a waterbrush to paint a second wash of color onto the sky. It’s generally
not a good idea to futz around and overwork watercolor in this way, since the
results are more often worse than better, but at least the sky is a bit more
intensely blue. This method of using water-soluble pencils, by the way, seems closest
to traditional watercolors.

Shown below is the final sketch with all the techniques
labeled.

I really like the way the pine trees came out fuzzy and a
bit blurry with a dry-on-wet application. However, I’m learning that it’s
important to gauge carefully how wet the paper is when putting the pencil in. I
started drawing the trees from left to right. By the time I got over to the
right side of the paper, I was afraid it was too dry, so I gave it another dose
of water. The puddle on the paper’s surface was a bit too much, and when I put
the pencil in, the pigment started floating around. I sopped up some of the
excess water with a napkin, but you can see where the trees got a little too
fuzzy and blurry.

I’m sure I’ve only skimmed the surface of what these magical
pencils can do!Edited: I completely forgot about Derwent Inktense until Terrie reminded me, so I went back and added it to the test table.

Same sketch as above but with a second wash of color added to the sky.

Monday, September 12, 2016

9/9/16 colored pencils (The orphaned chick in the hand of its adopted father, John)

Several flamingo chicks hatched recently at the Woodland Park Zoo, including one that had
been abandoned as an egg. They are growing fast, an e-mail from the zoo
informed us, so we popped over there on Friday between errands just to see the new
chicks.

When we first arrived, we spotted the two with parents who were
feeding and scuttling around under the feet of the grownups, but there was no
sign of the orphan. By the time I had sketched one of the chicks, their keeper
came out with the one we had been looking for – the orphan, who was also the
youngest. About three weeks old, the little one (gender as yet undetermined) could
sure run fast. Being hand-raised by its adopted human father until it’s old
enough to join the flock, it actually responded to keeper John’s calls! As we
watched it clumsily bump into things in its path, John assured us that
flamingoes are not the smartest birds in the nest. Still, the fuzzy little
guy/gal sure was cute. The next time we see it, it will probably be tall and
pink like the rest of the flock.

9/9/16 colored pencils (One of the other new chicks old enoughto mingle with adults.)

Sunday, September 11, 2016

This summer was so full of travel and other activities that
I hardly had time to visit any farmers markets. Now I’m trying to make up for
lost time. Although the produce is dwindling, I’ve still been getting great
corn and tomatoes lately, and amazingly, last Thursday at the Lake City Farmers Market, I got a
surprise – delicious, sweet strawberries! I thought I’d seen the last of them
in July.

After cruising past all the booths, I noticed a seated
audience listening attentively to a woman who was giving a demo on an unusual
subject: how to make kombucha. I’m
not a fan of the fermented tea beverage that is apparently full of beneficial
“symbiotic colonies of bacteria and yeast” (known as SCOBY), but it was
interesting to hear about how it’s made. Great care has to be taken to ensure
that the tea is not contaminated while being made, only glass containers must
be used, the temperature has to remain within a narrow range, only teas with cultures
already in them are appropriate, etc. Given that boiling water is the extent to
which I’ll go to make a beverage, the process sounded very high-maintenance to
me. Nonetheless, I enjoyed sketching Ellie Cohen, the kombucha expert.

The next day Greg and I dropped by Phinney Farmers Market to pick up some corn for dinner. We were on
our way home from errands, so I wasn’t planning to sketch. But on our way out,
we heard some blues vocals, and we couldn’t resist stopping for a few minutes.
I pulled out my quick and trusty brush pen to capture The Clefts, whose
toe-tapping music was just right for a warm Friday afternoon.

Most of the neighborhood farmers markets will remain open
through September, so I hope I can get to a few more this year. I had a good
summer, but I also feel like I missed the best of it here at home while I was
away.

P.S. About this post’s title . . . doesn’t that sound like
it should be a rockabilly band?